A Summer Wind
by Melein
Summary: The wind is a fickle thing, entangling two youths, their disdain and loyalties forgotten, uncertainly to be carried away. Malfoy and Granger find some enigmatic appeal in one another, and...magic ensues.
1. Caprice

Um, alright, I initially forgot to do this, but I had enough thought to add a little note before throwing the story at you. :o) This isn't my first fanfiction. I used to frequent this site quite a bit, but left it for a long time, and only recently came back to check out things. This is a brand new pen name, and a brand new fanfic. I've never written a HP one before…hopefully this is a good attempt? Please, tell me what you think. Otherwise I might feel like I'm wasting up valuable internet space. ;)

**I do not own Harry Potter, or anything in the series. JK Rowling does. I do not own the moon, or the lake, or the castle, but I do own the imagery. :o)**

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Chapter One: Caprice

The lake was a sheet of placid glass, undisturbed by any sentient movement, only the whisper of a summer wind. The moon hung overhead, suspended by a pivot, as if it had been hammered into place as decoration, with starry nail and mallet, by some smiling god. The air hung, languid on the warmth of the night, and moved all who inhaled it into a mindless gaity, wiped any trace of worldly stress from her mind, allowed him to exist, simply. To exist.

The night was a silky sheet, and lingered above the world, filtering the light of the moon into shades of flower-scented lavender and mercenary black.

Hermione Granger was studying. Inside, by the common room fire, attired in boxers and a t-shirt, all her books laid out methodically on the scarlet rug, she worked earnestly toward something she was never sure of. Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, A History of Magic, all leather-spined giants of volumes, beckoning with their yet undiscovered knowledge. Her quill darted black over a scroll, casting an impossibly long shadow that pointed like an arrow toward the door to the common room.

Hermione realized the importunity of the odd bulk of homework assignments she had been assigned for the day. She was accustommed to studying for hours without a lift of the chin, but today she was obligated to read a history of the troll wars in Munich, study the endless process of creating a Nightshade potion, based on a poison capable of luring the victim into a delirious sleep, perform calculations on the orbital eccentricity of Jupiter, read through a section on probabilities as applied to magic, review the mehod of transfiguring liquids for tomorrow's class, and study Stonehenge and its historical usage, as a magical gathering place. All this, as the lake-scented air pried tendrils through the open window, crept unknowingly through her mostly untameable hair, drifted teasingly before her nostrils, played at her exposed legs, tempted her to step outside and revel in the first delightfully temperate day that Hogwarts had seen for the school year.

The sad truth was that Hermione had not stepped outside all day, save for changing between classes and an hour of Care of Magical Creatures by Hagrid's hut. Now, she was sorely tempted to put aside her endless pit of homework and take a well-needed breather outside. She rolled her eyes and cursed herself for neglecting her studies even momentarily, and suddenly wondered where everyone else was. She then realized that they were all enjoying their day, whereas she had the ability to make the most gorgeous day she had seen into a work-laden bore. Even now, she imagined Ron and Harry chatting up some admiring underclassmen, lazying around in the courtyard.

Seventh year was important, as it was to everyone, but Hermione was always harder on herself than anyone else in her year, perhaps not always necessarily.

And this thought led Hermione to the edge of the lake, dipping her toes into initially harshly cold water, which gave way to an invigorating coolness. She sighed and leaned back, smiling, closed-eyed, at the night sky. What a relief it was to simply exist. But she could not, as long as her unfinished essay for Professor Binns lay on the floor of the common room. With a groan, Hermione released her toes from their relaxing spa, and tread, barefoot, back to the school, shoes in hand and heart in disappointment.

That was when an unmistakable groan of ecstacy reached her unwilling ears, and she stopped dead in her tracks. Curious, as anyone would be, she followed the noise, which became much like a squealing baby elephant, eyes wide when she came upon a very entangled, very oblivious pair, making love like truly, there was no tomorrow. Now, Hermione Granger was not remotely experienced in these matters and now let out the tiniest of squeals as she dove headfirst for the nearest cluster of trees.

It was Draco Malfoy, normally perfect hair now completely in disarray, tongue lingering on the lips of a girl with hair that blended away into the night. And she could very easily see his nicely shapen butt. Just a second now. Hermione could not possibly be thinking about Malfoy's butt. But she was, and it led into a glistening back, and firm shoulder bones, and a neck that oddly reminded her of a swan's, that effortlessly gave way to a shock of white-blonde, and eyes of silver that penetrated like daggers. Eyes…of silver. Malfoy was staring directly at her, or rather, at a pair of bewildered amber eyes through some foliage. Breath caught in mid-exhale, Hermione hoped that he was only looking at a budding flower on the tree, and not at her very red-handed self. As she pondered what to do next, with Draco's eyes now unmistakably fixed on hers, the pair of lovers reached their limits, and those rather irritating groans became shockingly loud. The sight was beautiful, in some strange demented way, like a god and a goddess embracing in their immortal glory. Like Draco Malfoy was close to being a god. Right. Hermione would not give him the satisfaction of catching her, so she ran away, as fast as she possibly could with bare feet and a difficulty with breathing, from her unconsciously bated breath.

She panicked as she heard definite steps behind her, and began running impossibly faster. At this rate, she could have easily made a muggle track team. But the steps somehow overtook her, and she gathered herself up to confront Malfoy, racking her mind for excuses for her obvious spying. But it was no Malfoy who confronted her, just a pair of shimmering green eyes that wore a concerned and quite amused expression.

"Hermione? You ok? Why were you running so fast?" Harry inquired, thinking that he had never seen his old friend ever running at that speed.

"Uh…" Hermione was now feeling the effects of her track-star imitation. She stumbled under his support, and after a few efforts to stand upright, sat down on the grass.

"I needed the exercise," she finally managed, after breathing like an asthmatic.

Harry's eyes widened a bit, obviously not convinced.

"I see." He helped her off her feet, deciding for the moment that further inquiry would have her in a serious condition.

They treked to the school, Harry supporting Hermione as she found her legs again, two friends silhouetted by the moon, one relieved to be silent, and the other quite unrelieved of his curiosity.

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If you haven't figured it out by now, it will quite likely be a Draco/Hermione pairing. Am I too long-winded? I catch myself at it sometimes. :-P


	2. Something Other Than Jogging

Yay I got a review! Thank you very much, hagridlover. Consequently, she suggested that I add a disclaimer, and I am.****

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything in the series. That would be ©JK Rowling. I do not own Hermione or Draco or Harry or Ron, but I do own an excessive number of video games.**

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Chapter 2: Something Other Than Jogging

The day broke with a gleam that filtered between the gaps of the scarlet curtains in Hermione's room. She was head girl, and was accordingly allotted quite an extravagant room, decorated in Gryffindor gold and scarlet, with a spacious bathroom. The taps shot out different-colored bubble baths, a smaller version of the Prefect's bathroom, which was really more like a bubbling swimming pool. She enjoyed her privacy, though, and preferred her own cozy bathroom to sharing one with other sweaty prefects, something she was forced to endure for two years. There were definite benefits to being head girl. Apart from having to see head boy Draco Malfoy every so often, to share duties. How he made the cut, she still wondered.

Thinking of Malfoy, Hermione blushed to remember the incident last night. Her excuse to Harry was worse than pathetic, and she desperately hoped that Malfoy had not recognized her.

The light from her window was reminding her of how tired she was, wrung out from physical exhaustion from sprinting the previous night. Hermione groaned from the memory. She got dressed, putting on her everyday school robes, with her uniform skirt and sweater underneath. She thought of taking a wet brush to her hair, in hopes of taming it today, but stopped before the thought was formed; it was failed before she even attempted it. Another groan, and she picked up her school bags, dreading an encounter with anyone. Harry was bound to ask questions, to discover the real reason she acted so out of character, and she was still holding onto hope that Draco was oblivious of the real culprit.

"Hey! Hermione!" Harry beamed. It was quite fitting that the person Hermione was most dreading speaking to happened to be the first lovely face she saw in the morning.

"'Lo, harry," Hermione said, quite monotone, still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. In hopes of avoiding the hot topic, Hermione began to talk incessantly, something she was quite good at under pressure.

"Well! I was so busy catching up on homework and all that I fell asleep at 2 in the morning! I wish we didn't have our first classes so early. How's Hedwig doing? I might have to borrow her later…my parents are going to be worried that I haven't written them in awhile. I was reading this muggle fantasy novel, and it was really quite fascinating. You should check it out sometime, Harry. I know you don't read-"

"Hermione."

"-for leisure all that often, but this one is really a must-read." Just a few dozen steps from the Great Hall.

"Hermione."

"Did you have something to say? I was just going to mention that Ron seemed awfully quiet yesterday. Anything up with him? You seem to know everything before I do, since I've got my nose in a book half the time." Almost there, just 5 steps. Hopefully the prospect of food would make Harry temporarily forgetful. Most likely.

"Hermione!" Now Harry was starting to look displeased. Uh oh.

"**OH!** Just look at the weather outside!" Hermione gestured hugely at the floor-to-wall windows set in along the corridors. "Isn't it lovely?"

"Hermione Jane Granger, stop talking for an instant," Harry had physically hindered their progress toward the lunchroom by stepping bodily in front of her and placing both hands on her shoulders. "I think we need to talk."

Damn. So close.

"Fine, Harry, but I don't see what's so important that we can't discuss it over breakfast." Ooh, mistake. There was much that, should the truth be revealed, was not to be heard by every nosy little ear (wha?) in the Great Hall.

"Better yet, how about we save this conversation for **after** breakfast?" Hermione was now displaying her best show of teeth and ushering Harry into the Great Hall, to his very embarassed rebuttals.

"Hermione!" Harry said for the fourth time, in exasperation. Then, after seeing the puppy look on Hermione's face, and, more convincing, catching a whiff of someone's sausages, he gave up and got to stuffing his face.

Ron joined the pair, wondering why Hermione looked so relieved and Harry looked so piggish.

"I on," Harry spluttered between chewing huge bites of bacon.

"Hey Harry." Ron sat between the two, and eyed Hermione's hair for a moment (it was more bushy than normal this morning) before greeting his other best friend.

"Morning, Hermione. What have you been up to? I didn't catch you last night."

Immediately Hermione looked much less relieved and much more antsy.  
"Oh! Nothing really. Just writing my paper on Stonehedge, er, henge."

"Sounds boring to me!" Ron had already tired of the conversation and now joined Harry in attempting to set a world record for most bacon consumed in a single sitting.

Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered something along the lines of _pigs._

That was when she sensed a certain cold stare that was rolling sheets of ice down her neck, and turned around reluctantly to see Draco Malfoy staring quite intently in their direction. She quickly whipped her head around and stared at her pancakes, and the whipped cream that was quickly melting into something quite unappetizing. _No problem, _Hermione thought. _Draco's always eyeing us evilly. He's just planning some big scheme to call attention to my being muggleborn and Ron's being poor and Harry's saving the world several times. No big change there._

She polished her head girl badge with her sleeve, out of habit, never quite satisfied with its gleam. She was reassured for the moment that nothing had changed between her and Draco. She attempted to eat a bit of her bacon, not quite up to Harry and Ron's standard of ingestion, but reasonable considering the very unsettled feeling at the bottom of her stomach. Hopefully the other two weren't noticing anything wrong. She glanced up, quite certain that they had not noticed anything at all. Harry was now looking quite pleased, patting his belly. Ron was obviously daydreaming, probably imagining what was for dinner. It was quite a shock that neither of them were as obese as Harry's infamously large cousin Dudley, but they trained for quidditch more often than they ate, believe it or not. Both boys had very toned figures, and their growth in height had long surpassed Hermione's. They were objects of desire, it seemed, through the school. Hermione had known them much too long to see them in such light. They were really just best friends and occasionally acted like protective brothers.

The rumble of excited conversation turned into a shuffling and creaking as people began leaving for classes. Hermione was one of the first out the door, beckoning Harry and Ron along to Potions, which was the first class of the day. She suddenly felt a drop in body warmth and a curious scent of something like jasmine leaves drenched in wine. It was intoxicatingly sweet, and a pair of calculating grey eyes suddenly found hers. Her breathing was suddenly quite a bit labored, and she found that she could not tear her gaze from his. _Oh my_, she thought, and suddenly realized that staring at him any longer might jar his memory of the other night, when a set of amber eyes were turned toward him in the same way. So Hermione somehow found the sense to look away. She was quite shaken, and her breath came a bit raggedly, though this time, she had done no running. The effect that a despicable Slytherin boy was having on her utterly amazed her, and she was glad those penetrating eyes were no longer looking at her, as if they could read her soul.

"Hermy? You okay?" Ron inquired, suddenly not daydreaming about food any longer.

"Yeah, yeah…" but Hermione was not. As long as she was unsure of what Draco was, she was far from okay.

Potions in the dungeon was a nightmare for Hermione. The moment they had gotten themselves settled, Harry had attacked Hermione with questions.

"I know you weren't exercising last night, Herm. I've never seen you run so fast in your life. Care to spill? Was someone after you? Because you know that Ron and I could take care of that git easiliy."

"No…" Harry was certainly not onto her, so she decided to take the "hurt friend" approach. "Honestly, Harry, if you don't trust me when I say something, I don't know what kind of friendship we have."

"No, no Hermione. That's not at all what I meant. I just thought that, in the moment, you might have said something untruthful. And you seemed very flustered, which I think was a result of something other than jogging."

Now Hermione felt a bit bad. Her friend deserved the truth.

"Okay Harry. I'll tell you." Hermione didn't even know how to explain. Her mouth was drying up as she spoke, and she was sure her face was becoming a strawberry.

"Er…I saw…-"

"Page 324 please." Professor Snape interrupted Hermione's reluctant confession at quite an appropriate spot. So appropriate, it might have been planned. Potions proceeded. Hermione snuck glances at Malfoy. Harry and Ron snuck suspicious glances at Hermione. Snape stared blatantly at all of them, quite amused.

And the worst thing that might have happened did indeed happen. Draco Malfoy winked at Hermione Granger. Not just a twitch of an eye. A definite, surly, knowing wink. It was the most confusing, annoying thing he could have done, and now Hermione was certain that he knew. He knew that she had spied on him, and she deeply hoped that didn't mean she owed him anything. She let out a sigh that blew a lock of her hair across her forehead, and continued grinding her griffin nails, letting her hair over her now very flushed face.

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Oooh, and the plot…searches for non-cliché bubbles..? Haha. Double, double, toil and trouble…that's enough of that, then. I would like to have reviews. They are very good for my fragile self-confidence. :oP


	3. Confrontation

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any aspect of Rowling's brilliant creation. Please forgive me for trampling so randomly on her beloved characters.**

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Chapter 3: Confrontation

Hermione was peeved. Why should she be the one to feel humiliated, when, obviously, Malfoy was the one all over some girl in the middle of the school grounds? It was none of her fault that she happened upon them, and it certainly wasn't her fault for being curious. No, no, this was all Malfoy's doing, and she would have none of his winks or suggestive looks. She would confront him, as Head Girl, and do what her duty was – penalize him for flagrantly disobeying school rules. Creating a potential public disturbance, doing much more than snogging, which would be penalized severely already…these were her duties to prohibit. She would.

So, our bookish head girl headed up to her room after classes, and tied up her hair, attempting to look like someone of authority, a girl who would demand respect. (I suppose she was trying to mimic Professor McGonagall) Without the very distracting nature of her bushy hair, there was a noticeable natural prettiness in her inquisitive brown eyes, her small pouty lips, and her delicate face. She headed out of her room, shining up her head girl badge, on a mission to find Draco Malfoy, and to put him in his place.

Hermione sneaked toward the dungeons, rounding corners with serpentine precision and sly looks over her shoulder. After all, it helped to be a snake in order to catch one. She was hoping her scarlet-and-gold Gryffindor uniform wouldn't be too noticeably out-of-place in the dismal, dark, oddly damp and cold place. The dungeons were revealed by torchlight, each huge grey brick etched out, flickering with shadow. Involuntarily, she shivered. This was hardly a comfortable place to be snooping around in. Her search had been uninterrupted thus far, but as soon as the thought occurred, Hermione noticed a black figure at the next corner.

"Shit," she whispered, mind searching rapidly for a cover story.

Before Hermione could formulate a single thought, Blaise Zabini, renowned Slytherin jerk and one of Draco's right hand men, stood before her. All 6-feet-tall-blazing-blue-eyes of him. His very inescapable good looks were intimidating, and Hermione was ill-experienced with boys, so she was crossing her fingers that she wouldn't studder and make a fool of herself.

"Hello…what is your name again? Manger?" Before Hermione could correct his very intentional blunder, Blaise continued.

"What might you, an obvious **Gryffindor**, be doing in the **dungeons** with such a suspiciously guilty look on your face?"

She looked guilty? Oh, bother. Hermione never was very good at acting.

"I'm sure you've mistaken that look with one of complete irritation. Get out of my way before I take points from Slytherin!" Hermione was even surprised at her own insistence.

"Oh, no!" He was grinning. "Not points from Slytherin!" Now he was positively beaming. Apparently he found the situation quite amusing.

Exasperated and blushing, Hermione resorted, at last, to physical violence and shoved him aside with a show of force that caught Blaise off-guard and sent him tumbling to the ground, to land very ungracefully on his ass. Now Hermione was beaming.

For the elusive Mr. Malfoy… Hermione decided to ask around. She didn't need justification to be down here. She was head girl, after all, and she could very likely just be monitoring the halls. If anyone was unwilling to divulge information, she could just threaten the poor, deluded thing with a detention…or two. Hermione was feeling very venomous. Perhaps the environment down in the dungeons just brought out the natural Slytherin in everyone.

Who to ask first? Erm…well, there was an indifferent-looking Slytherin girl, wandering around looking thoroughly bored. Perhaps Hermione could whittle some information out of her.

"Um, yes, girl. Yes, you there. No, not that kid. You! Yes, yes, come here. As head girl of Hogwarts, Hermione Granger, I demand to know the whereabouts of Draco Malfoy, for he has broken various rules and must be suitably…disciplined," Hermione finished, awkwardly.

After a bit of giggling (this girl was certainly a first-year), she divulged.

"Well, Miss Granger," the first-year replied, quite sarcastically, "I happened to see Draco near the Slytherin common room, brooding by the fire. He's quite good at that, you know," and added, as a sort of afterthought, "My name is Mag. I'd prefer not to be addressed as 'girl'." With that, and a defiant look from her green eyes, she turned and stalked away in the opposite direction.

"Well!" Hermione was genuinely surprised. She'd rarely encountered such petulance toward her authority. Well, she supposed it was to be expected from a Slytherin.

Aha. A gleaming head of bird turd hair. Unmistakably Draco Malfoy, greased up and sauntering around the corner. Perhaps she didn't need to interrogate any more students after all.

"Malfoy! Here, now." Yes. Way to address him like a pet dog. Let him know his place.

Malfoy's eyebrow cocked so high that she wondered whether it had disappeared into this hair. He seemed to size her up, keeping his distance. After determining…what, she didn't know, he sauntered, cocky as ever, toward her set, stern, figure.

"Yes, muddie?" Well, at least he hadn't used the full deragatory term of 'mudblood.' Though 'muddie' wasn't much better. "Do you need something from me?"

"Could you show some manners toward me? Yes, perhaps you are headboy, and you feel no inclination to respect my authority, but do remember that I can just as easily order you to detention, or refer you to the headmaster, as you can me. Let us speak civilly." Hermione was feeling good. No stuttering so far.

More eyebrow-raising. Pretty soon it was going to be completely lost in his locks.

"Well. What, my fellow head student, do you inquire after today?" Completely mocking, but at least he was complying.

"I must tell you that, the other night, I happened upon you and another Slytherin, I presume, indulging in, erm…some questionable activity. I came to inform you that such violation of public decency breaks about 22 Hogwarts school rules. I should know, I have the Hogwarts Headstudent Handbook in my pocket." Hermione was now quite confident. She naturally was when spouting her knowledge, whether or not others really wanted to hear it.

"Your hair is different." Draco was very intently concentrating on Hermione's ponytail, which, even as they spoke, was unraveling, stray strands coming loose and dangling near her face.

Hermione was caught completely off-guard. He hadn't answered her accusation at all!

"Yes, I suppose it is," Hermione replied, unconsciously fingering her stray locks, trying in vain to put them in place.

And then the conversation was abruptly cut off, and they stood there, staring at one another. Hermione had absolutely no idea what was going on, and didn't really know what was appropriate to say at the moment. Had Malfoy just pseudo-complimented her? "Different" was a compliment, coming from Draco Malfoy. Her purpose seemed completely forgotten at the moment, and she was feeling very fidgety and uncomfortable under Malfoy's very close scrutiny. There was that jasmine smell again.

"Do you wear cologne?" Oh. Goodness. She really did not mean to say that out loud.

Eyebrow raising. She had become accustomed to it.

"No." Malfoy seemed content as ever to continue staring her down. Perhaps this was like a game of chicken. Who ever backed off first would lose. And Hermione would not be a loser. So she got to staring, relieved that no student had yet come upon them. Surely, their staring contest would have drawn many interested spectators.

His eyes were really quite pretty. She didn't feel like a traitor thinking that. It was merely an observation. There were swirls of blue and lavender dispersed in the cold grey, and his lashes extended gracefully above them, framing those lovely eyes with white. She wondered what he thought of her eyes. They couldn't possibly be as lovely. Yes, so he was nice to gaze at. That didn't say anything for his very venemous personality.

After some more prolonged staring, and ceaseless fidgeting from Hermione, a very obviously staged "ahem" broke their intensity. Who knew whether Draco or Hermione had stared away first? They were both very suddenly aware of a third presence that, even before they turned from one another, were all too certain was bad news.

"Mister Malfoy. Miss Granger. As head boy and girl, I do wish you two would promote some interhouse cooperation. Staring each other down in the middle of a highly-trafficked hallway will not do. Five points from Gryffindor and Slytherin. Please, if you would, insure that the next time I come upon you two, you will be the picture of friendly unity."

Draco and Hermione stared at one another, equally appalled. _Friendly unity?_ Disgusting thought.

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Hoo. I am grateful very very much for reviews of Chap 2. **Jane**, **Forever Felton**, and **Inari** get my happily-given hugs.

Note: I have changed the rating to PG-13. Initially, I thought that the language might be somewhat offensive, but really, it doesn't seem bad enough to deserve an R rating.


	4. Apollo

**Disclaimer: (':') Kirby says that I don't own him. Nor do I own the Harry Potter franchise. Nor do I own the Draco Malfoy…franchise.**

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Chapter 4: Apollo

After that very odd "staring contest," and Professor Snape's slightly outraged disruptance, both Hermione and Malfoy quickly departed in opposite directions. Draco doubtlessly strutted to the Slytherin common room to brood, and Hermione took solace in the library.

Hermione was furiously blushing, something she hated because it so easily revealed her emotions. She was glad that Snape had not noticed that they were engaging in something that could be called a game, and that he had assumed it was simply a moment of bitter hatred on both ends. He obviously had not noticed the way Hermione was losing herself, though she did not realize, in Draco's eyes. And he had not noticed that Draco, expression constantly disdainful, constantly lofty, was indulging himself for a moment in something other than degrading whomever he happened upon. It was almost revolutionary.

Checking out, for the fourteenth time, _Hogwarts, A History_, Hermione buried herself in its pages, needing to think of anything but her undefined acquaintance with Draco. But, she found that for this occasion, not even her most beloved book could free her mind from racing around, always dwelling on a set of silvery orbs with constantly shifting nuances of color. Exasperated from forcing her brain to action, she drudged to dinner, hoping to stuff her face with her two friends.

She found Harry and Ron chatting away about Quidditch between mouthfuls of…what was that, anyway? Turnips and spinach. Yummy. Hermione had the fleeting hope that perhaps the house elves had finally become fed up and were rebelling accordingly through the meal plan, but then again, house elves probably had a very peculiar idea of what was tasty.

"Hey, you two," Hermione muttered, a bit forlornly. She hated being confused and uncertain. If there was one thing she found security in, it was knowing exactly what was going on, all the time.

"What's up, Herm?" Harry's eyes were sparkling with gaiety, as usual.

"Yeah Hermy, you coming to the big match tomorrow? If you haven't heard, we're playing **Slytherin**." Ron spat the last word with the most condescension he could muster, which was really quite a bit, considering that he was a very laid-back, good-natured sort.

"Of course. I never miss your matches," Hermione mumbled, shoving down turnips and avoiding the spinach, which tended to get stuck in her teeth.

"Except for that one time you had an Ancient Runes test the next day, and spent the entire day hissing at other humans." Ron and Hermione were still prone to teasing one another relentlessly. "**Honestly**, sometimes it seems you're nicer to your big fat ginger cat than you are to your friends." Ron had a big smile plastered on his freckly face.

"Yes, Ronald, and **honestly**, sometimes it seems that my big fat ginger cat is more entertaining than my friends." Hermione couldn't help supressing a grin. Teasing Ron was certain to liven her spirits a little.

Harry must have noticed the flush of Hermione's complexion, and her quick relapse from smiling to looking very indifferent. He had quite a knack for picking up on a person's mental state. Though the same couldn't be said for his insight when it came to romantic situations with girls.

"Anything wrong, Hermione?" The flashing green was suddenly very subdued.

"Nah, nothing!" Hermione quickly grinned, and proceeded to shove more turnips down, as happily as possible. It was actually quite a hard task. The grinning in itself was burning up quite the few calories she was ingesting from the turnips.

And the three Gryffindors ate, merrily as ever, watched by the silvery blue of the enchanted night sky, smiles flickering with the candlelight.

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Hermione dreamt that night of unicorns. They were graceful things, the white of their coats so vivid amongst the forest, which carried shades of the black and amethyst blanket of night. They were lovely and fleet, racing through the trees, covering distance without any sense of movement. They almost seemed to glide on through the growth, carried by transparent wings. As she approached one, a youth, just changed into its white coat (she knew this, somehow), she reached to touch its elegant horn, entraced by its darling eyes, which were like pieces fallen from the night sky. Suddenly, the unicorn pulled away, and the lovely thing was soon replaced with the gigantic grinning face of Draco Malfoy.

Hermione woke up screaming. It was very apparently not morning, as she realized by the complete black that surrounded her. She had the sense to cover her mouth, forcing herself to stop panicking. Why was she dreaming of Malfoy? Why, why?

After a few minutes of what she thought was surely hyperventilation, she lay exhausted, entwined somewhat inextricably in her blankets, breathing quietly and hoping she hadn't been heard through the walls. That she had been heard was very dubious, as Hogwarts had thick magically-enchanted walls that were most likely soundproof to outsiders.

Lying unmovingly for several more minutes, Hermione realized that perhaps it would be tough to sleep again after that traumatic dream. She was scared to even attempt it. A large grinning Draco was a very disturbing sight, especially when one had no idea what he was grinning about.

Wrapping herself in one of her satin nightrobes, she tiptoed very silently out of her room, and into the corridors, with little idea where she was headed. This was one of those few times in which she wished she had an invisibility cloak like Harry's. Certainly, she was very unlikely to engage in mischevious activities, and didn't think of trouble-making aids very often. This was a notable exception; she made a note to borrow his cloak sometime, in case of future horrifyingly Malfoy-esque dreams, and the unrest that would certainly follow.

After stepping gently along for a few minutes, in some arbitrary direction, down some arbitrary corridor, with no light but the few night-torches left burning for those who sought a bathroom or something of the sort, she tripped over…what, she didn't know, and fell quite flamboyantly, robes billowing and hands flailing, to land on her stomach with the air knocked completely out of her.

"Lumos," some stranger whispered, and Hermione was suddenly very, very scared. Whomever she had encountered was likely dangerous. Really, what kind of person wandered around the corridors at night, in the dark? Well, excluding Hermione, that is.

Still on her stomach, Hermione shut her eyes, hoping, with some very un-Hermione-like logic, that the stranger would go away if she couldn't see anything. Perhaps she would just…blend into the floor. Yeah. Camoflage. Like a chameleon. Or a demiguise. Nothing of the sort happened. Instead, an annoyingly familiar voice snapped her right out of her frenzied thinking.

"Really, muddie, are we playing hide-and-seek now? I have no time for games. I would have expected more from the head girl. Get up, and quit with the dead fish act."

Hermione rolled her eyes dramatically as soon as she recognized the drawling voice, and scrambled up off the floor as gracefully as someone could do who had to start from a face-down position, which in fact was not very gracefully at all.

"What are you doing, Malfoy? Explain yourself. Not even head students have the right to go wandering the halls after hours for no good reason." Hermione tried very hard to ignore the fact that she was being an utter hypocrite.

"Same thing you're doing, Granger. Wandering the halls after hours for no good reason."

He just had to be enigmatic. What a deliberate jerk.

"For your information," Hermione stated quite matter-of-factly, tossing her head back, "**I** have a reason to be wandering the halls. It's special business for Dumbledore. Nothing you need to be concerned about." Hermione was finding herself a decent liar now…the recent practice must have helped.

"Oh, really? 'Special business' is walking aimlessly without any light? I believe that." Draco was smirking. Quite like the way he smirked in her…dream.

Alright, no thinking of that. The last thing Hermione needed was to freak out again.

"FINE. I was wandering around aimlessly. As were you. And if you take points from me, I'll take the same points from you," Hermione was becoming as amused as Draco seemed to be about the situation. "So. Let's just leave it at that. No points taken, nothing said." She finished her proposition with a winning grin.

"Oh, but you forget one little thing, dear girl. I have reason to believe that you could blackmail me. And we don't need that happening. So apparently, something needs to be done." At this point, Draco's smirk acquired a tinge of malice, and Hermione became scared all over again.

Hermione began backing away as inconspicuously as possible, not bothering to remove the horrified look from her face. She had her wand in her hand, ready at any point to hex, or block.

Malfoy yelled "Veritas!" whilst pointing his wand at Hermione, and looked very satisfied with himself.

Hermione, upon hearing his spell, used one of her own.

"Reverto!" The counterspell collided with Malfoy's, and knocked him backwards.

Luckily Hermione knew exactly what kind of spell Malfoy had tried. It was a truth spell, albeit a very transitory one. There was no reliable indicator of when it wore out, which is why veritaserum was preferred in serious cases. But as long as Malfoy's own spell had been used on himself, Hermione decided that she might as well reap the benefits.

"So, ferret. Decided to figure out how much I really knew about your little affair in the courtyard? Guess you'll never know. But I'll certainly know some _interesting_ little things about you." Hermione smirked, and unbeknownst to her, her smile quite resembled what Draco's was a moment before.

"No, no, mudblood. You'll pay dearly." But Draco was quite helpless to reverse the effects of his own overconfident spell-casting now.

Hermione thought. What would be an excellent use of this opportunity?

"Tell me your most embarassing incident. Intricate details, of course, will be necessary." Hermione, if possible, grinned even more maliciously.

Draco was the one looking horrified. What a difference a spell and an intelligent muggleborn made. He gulped, unable to contain his impulse to tell the truth.

"I was completely wet out of the shower, with a towel on. Crabbe and Goyle, the asses they are, decided to pull a joke. I think I had made fun of them too many times that day or something. They really are stupid…" Draco, at this point, had the most pained expression in his eyes, though his vocal chords just kept on chugging along. "Yes, so. They grabbed me bodily and hoisted me, one on each side, out of our room, and plopped me right down outside the door. Right in full view of everyone who happened to be in the common room at that time. Those lucky bastards. To top it all off, my towel had slipped off in the skirmish, and the family jewels were just…out there. I maintained my dignity, though I still had to stand around awkwardly. I would have tried to curse them, of course, but they had locked me out of the room, and were standing on the other side having their laugh, probably looking through the peephole. Perverts, those two. Get their kicks any way they can." He finished with a shiver, as if he were reliving the moment.

Hermione was barely containing herself. She didn't think his embarassing moment could have been this entertaining. Here she was, assuming he was going to ramble on about some dull instance in which someone had fussed up his hair in front of a pretty girl. She chose this point to chuckle. Aristocratic, charming, perfectly composed Draco Malfoy, standing ass-bare in front of an entire congregation of his fellow Slytherins. How much better could it be? Well, he could have been standing in front of some very amused Gryffindors instead. Then, Hermione pictured Draco naked, and got quite red. Damn those color pigments in her skin. It would be best if she did not think about Draco's body…or eyes for now.

"You're laughing at me." Draco was livid. His eyes were flashing and he was obviously on the brink of hitting something.

"No, no," Hermione giggled, "I'm laughing at the circumstance." She wondered if the spell had worn off yet, and considered asking another question. Upon seeing the fierceness of Malfoy's murderous eyes, she decided against it.

Draco was blushing. So he had color pigments too. What a sight. Hermione smiled, genuinely appalled at what a bit of color did to his complexion. If he had chosen this moment to smile, she might have thought she was witnessing the glowing attention of a god.

"Listen Granger. You're not trying anything like this…ever…again." He emphasized each word with what seemed an even more intense concentration of his eyes. Hermione wondered if he could control the color simply by thinking it. _Bluegreypurpleswirlturqoisesilver_. Sure seemed like it.

"I won't, of course. We all have our fun. Just a bit of payback for all those deragatory terms you've called me these seven years."

"Ten points from Gryffindor." That Malfoy smirk was back.

"For what?!?"

"Mouthing off to the head boy. And intention to be insolent. Say anything about this to anybody, Granger, and you'll wish your most embarassing moment was as slight as mine."

"Is that a threat, dragon-boy?"

Malfoy seemed the slightest bit disarmed. It wasn't anything Granger had called him before.

"No. It's a promise."

With that, Malfoy, moving like a snake, gripped Hermione around the wrist and drew her to him, and seemed to size her up, all over again. Those devilishly seductive eyes (they really had to come in handy) travelled as achingly slow as they dared, over every facet of her nightrobes (she was all too aware of how very purple they were), to meet her eyes again.

"Ow." It didn't really hurt, but Hermione was sure what to say at the moment. His eyes were really much too penetrating for comfort.

He dropped her hand as quickly as he had seized it, and stalked off, disappearing quickly into the darkness, footsteps resonating for some solitary moments.

Hermione exhaled, dispensing the breath she didn't know she was holding. She felt her wrist where his grip had been, and thought suddenly of the blazing touch of Apollo. _Damnit Hermione. Stop comparing him to Greek gods._ That jasmine smell again. Poo.

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Yayyy reviews! Woo. How FUN. Thank you to those who reviewed Chapter 3: **Kiran**, **pulchra-puella**, and **Dreamless-Mermaid**! And to my other reviewers, as well. It helps to know someone reads this thing. I hope this story goes somewhere, because honestly, I don't quite know what I'm doing. :oP


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